Proving Ground
by bree1387
Summary: A confrontation with a student has sinister consequences for Charlie as it threatens to end his relationship with Don, and his life. [Complete]
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** A confrontation with a student has sinister consequences for Charlie as it threatens to end his relationship with Don, and his life.

**Warnings: **Minor violence and language. Lots of angst.

**Disclaimer:** The characters you recognize belong to Cheryl Heuton and Nicolas Falacci. No copyright infringement intended.

**Author's Note: **An element of the plot resembles that of another Numb3rs story currently being posted. This is purely coincidental.

Many thanks to my awesome beta's **Elise** and **Lostinwonderland**. This story wouldn't be what it is now without their help.

**Proving Ground **

**Part 1/6**

by Megan

_Never forget what a man says to you when he is angry._

_-Henry Ward Beecher (1813-1887)_

**Friday**

**3:25 pm**

"... so you see, because x is the reciprocal of y, the graph will look something like this."

The sound of Charlie's chalk scraping on the board filled the classroom as he quickly demonstrated to his students one of the more advanced concepts of the afternoon's lesson. Once finished, he turned back to the class. With a satisfied smile, he watched as the students finished taking notes and looked back at him expectantly. Nothing thrilled him more than seeing the understanding in his students eyes as they grasped yet another concept.

"Are there any questions? No? Well then make sure to read chapters eight and nine tonight and I'll see you all Monday afternoon. Have a good weekend everyone."

Sitting down, Charlie watched, and nodded at his students as they filed past him to head home for the day. Once the class was almost empty, save for a handful of students still gathering their papers, he focused on writing lesson plans for next weeks lectures. He was forced to stop when a shadow crossed his desk.

Thinking it was a student who had decided they had a question after all, he looked up with a smile on his face. The smile faltered somewhat when he realized who it was standing in front of his desk.

"Professor Eppes," Tony greeted in his usual gruff manner.

Tony Rossey was one of the students that sat in the back of the classroom and never asked any questions. His homework was always submitted on time, and even though he was quite bright, the assignments of late had been suffering. Trying to talk to Tony about it had been pointless. The kid simply didn't want his help.

"What can I do for you, Tony?" Charlie politely inquired. "Did you have a question about today's assignment?"

"No." He carelessly dropped a pile of papers onto the desk. Charlie immediately recognized them as being the assignment he had returned at the start of class. "I want you to fix this."

Charlie's eyes followed Tony's thick finger to the D+ he was pointing to on the title page of the assignment.

"Your mark? I went thoroughly through your work, Tony. I can't give you a higher mark than that. Your proofs don't make sense, the equations are sloppy -"

"I need a higher mark," Tony interrupted.

Charlie thought about it for a minute. "Well, if you wanted to resubmit the paper I could -"

"No!" Tony exclaimed, causing Charlie to jump. "You don't understand. My father knows I'm getting the assignment back today and will expect to know the mark tonight. Redoing the assignment is not an option."

Charlie pushed his chair back, feeling slightly intimidated, but disguised his actions as a stretch so as not to alert Tony to his discomfort. Tony was a big guy, easily outweighing the professor by sixty pounds. While Charlie was used to dealing with difficult students, he'd never felt physically threatened before.

"Well, Tony, I'm not sure what you expect me to do."

Picking up a pen, he pushed it, and the assignment towards Charlie. "Change the mark."

"Tony," Charlie incredulously exclaimed. "You know as well as I do I can't do that."

"You don't understand, professor. My dad will not appreciate this mark. Do you know what he'll do?"

The uneasiness in Charlie's stomach grew. "If you're in some kind of trouble, there are people that can help."

"I guess it's too late, isn't it?" Grabbing the assignment off the desk with enough force to crunch the papers, Tony left the classroom after shooting Charlie a scathing look.

Stunned by what had just occurred, Charlie sat at his desk and stared into space. He'd never had a conversation like that with a student. Was Tony in trouble? Did he come from an abusive family? Knowing that the situation could get out of hand, and part of his responsibility as a teacher was the welfare of his students, he grabbed his bag and headed to the campus offices to notify the appropriate people of the troubling conversation.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**Monday**

**12:50 pm**

Charlie returned to his classroom from lunch with a cup of tea in hand, and started setting up for his afternoon lecture. The weekend had gone by far too quickly for his liking. Don had been too wrapped up in work to stop by, and his father had spent most of the weekend reading after claiming he was feeling a little low. The solitude had left Charlie lots of time to work on a series of problems Larry had needed help with.

After setting down his belongings, Charlie realized someone had come and taken the overhead projector. It wasn't the first time, and it wasn't necessarily a problem. He just wished people would return it on time. As students started filing in for their afternoon class, he slipped past them in search of a projector.

Returning, he briefly apologized and swept the room with his eyes. He froze when his eyes locked with those of Tony Rossey. Sitting in his usual spot, Tony didn't look any more or less troubled than he normally did. In fact, it almost looked like he was suppressing a smile.

Part way through the lesson, he quickly finished off his tea, grimacing as the now cold liquid slid down his throat.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**Monday**

**3:40 pm**

"Good afternoon, Charles," a friendly voice greeted him. Looking up from his work, he blinked and tried to bring the blurry form, that turned out to be Larry, into focus.

Towards the end of the class, he'd started feeling sick and found he couldn't concentrate on the lecture. He had managed to finish the class, but immediately had to sit down before he collapsed. The room seemed to swirl around him, and he felt uneasy, like something bad was about to happen. _It has to be the flu,_ he thought to himself. _Dad said he wasn't feeling well over the weekend._

"Are you all right, Charles? You look a little flushed." Larry's concerned voice broke his reverie.

"Oh, hi Larry. It's nothing. I think I'm getting a bit of a cold. What can I do for you?" He managed a small smile and tried to act as natural as possible.

"Well, I wanted to see how you made out over the weekend with those equations. I would have checked earlier, but Laurel and I were otherwise engaged."

"Good for you, Larry. It looks like things are going good between you two."

"Yes, yes, they are." He ran his hand through his hair as he approached the desk, but didn't elaborate further. "The equations?"

"Oh, yes, that's right," Charlie said as he turned and rummaged through his bag. Producing a folder, he handed it over to Larry. "Here ya go, I think that's everything."

"Good. That's good, Charles. Now, you go home and take care of that cold. You don't want to get worse."

"Sure thing, Larry."

Somehow, he managed to get his stuff together and bike home. The more time passed, the better he felt. He still felt spaced out, but wasn't nearly as dizzy. Maybe all he needed was fresh air.

The house was silent when he got home. There was a pot of stew on the stove, and a note on the fridge from his father explaining that he had gone to bed as he still wasn't feeling well. Being as quiet as possible so as not to disturb his father, Charlie got a small bowl of stew and sat at the kitchen table. He found he wasn't really hungry.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**Friday**

**12:15 pm**

Larry made his way to Charlie's classroom, intent on chewing the younger man out for showing up. Over the course of the week, Charlie had gotten progressively worse. It had started out with a slightly flushed appearance, and he seemed more distracted than usual. As the days passed, Larry had noticed dark circles forming under his friends eyes, drawn features, slight tremors, and a complete lack of appetite. Charlie hadn't gone with him for lunch since Tuesday. When Charlie had released his afternoon class early yesterday, Larry's alarm bells went off.

He rounded the corner and found his friend slumped over his desk, fast asleep. _At least he's getting some sleep,_ Larry thought to himself.

"Charles," he gently called, approaching the desk. "Charles, I'm going to take you home."

"Hmm?" Charlie moaned, raising his head.

"You're not well, Charles. Get your stuff and I'll drive you home."

"Don't you have class? Wait, I have class."

Larry's eyes narrowed. Charlie knew full well Larry didn't have a class on Friday afternoon. Also, how could Charlie have forgotten that every other Friday the class he normally taught in the afternoon was in the morning? Any doubts he'd been experiencing about Charlie's health, or lack thereof, were abolished. It was obvious the young man was sick.

As Charlie stood, Larry saw his knees start to buckle and rushed forward to grab his arm before he fell and hit his head on something.

"Charles!" he exclaimed, worried. "Are you all right? What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, Larry. I was just a little dizzy. I'm fine now." To prove his point, he shrugged off Larry's arm and continued gathering his stuff.

"When was the last time you ate?"

Charlie thought hard for a moment. Before he could reply, Larry interrupted.

"Okay. If you had to think about it that long, it's been way too long. No wonder you're dizzy."

Charlie mutely accepted Larry's reason for his dizziness, and tried to ignore the fuzziness in his head. It was getting bad. So bad in fact, that he'd dismissed yesterday's afternoon class because he was unable to concentrate. He couldn't remember anything. Even big events, like what he'd done at home last night, things he should be able to remember, weren't accessible to him. He felt like he was caught in a storm, and no matter how loud he yelled for help, he knew no one would hear. It almost felt like his mind was separating into it's own world while leaving his body behind.

He silently followed Larry to his car, his mind starting to drift again.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**Friday**

**1:20 pm**

Charlie stood in the garage, feeling like he was in a nightmare. No matter how much he wanted to do something, his body refused to let him now. His mind raced with images of numbers and equations. They flashed through his mind at lightning speed like nothing he'd ever experienced before. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop his hands from trying to write down every piece of information that appeared. He could feel his heart racing, sweat dripping down his back, and his breaths coming in quick pants.

This was the absolute worst he had felt. For the past few days he'd felt off, with some days being worse than others. With each progressive day that went by, he kept feeling generally worse and worse. Larry was the only one who had noticed, but had believed Charlie's excuse that it was just a cold. His hazy mind couldn't remember seeing Don or his Dad at all in the past few days.

No one else paid any attention. They thought he was just in one of his phases working on a hard problem. Only he knew that wasn't the case.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Please review. Constructive comments greatly appreciated._


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you everyone for your kind feedback! I never expected this type of response. I appreciate every one of your comments._

Disclaimer and summary in chapter one.

**Proving Ground **

**Part 2/6**

by Megan

_Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent._

_-Isaac Asimov (1920-1992)_

**Friday**

**2:02 pm**

Don quietly closed the front door and took the steps two at a time to his father's room, afraid of what he'd find. The AD had called him into his office earlier and told him he was needed at home. The message was something about his father being very ill, followed by something about his brother. He was so worried about his father that he didn't quite comprehend the part of the message about his brother.

He'd been out in the field and involved in multiple stake outs for the past week and hadn't had time to visit his family. If there was anything out of the ordinary going on, he wouldn't have noticed.

Stopping at the threshold to his father's room, his heart caught in his throat. The room was dark, and the stale air contaminated with the pungent smell of illness. His dad lay on his back, pale and sweating, eyes partly open.

He moved to his father's side. "Dad?"

Much to his surprise, a small smile crossed Alan's face, but quickly to be replaced with worry. "Don, you got here quick," he croaked.

"Of course I did. You asked for my help." Don quickly set about opening the window, allowing fresh air and a little light into the room. He then ran to the kitchen to grab his father a glass of ginger ale.

Upon his return, his father graciously accepted the cool liquid and savoured each sip. "How long have you been sick? Where's Charlie? He doesn't have class this afternoon."

"I started feeling sick last week, but it just got bad a few days ago." He closed his eyes and settled back against the pillows. "I'm sure it's just a really bad cold."

"You look like death warmed over. Is Charlie helping you?'

"No."

Don could hear the worry behind that single syllable, but couldn't help the anger he was starting to feel. He narrowed his eyes at his father as he continued.

"That's why I called for your help. Not for me, but for him. I haven't seen him in two days," Alan finished.

"What? You mean he knows you're sick and he is choosing not to help you? Where is he?" Don's worry for his father was being replaced by anger at his brother. He couldn't understand how Charlie could be so selfish at times.

"I can hear him in the garage. But Don, you need to understand. There's something not right with him."

"I'll say. How dare he..."

Alan cut him off. "Listen to me. He's not sleeping. I can hear him up at all hours of the night, and I'm certain he's not eating. I heard him come home from school too early yesterday, and he hasn't had anyone like Larry or Amita over. I need your help with him."

Don didn't know what to say. This scenario was disturbingly similar to what the family went through last year when his mother died. His brother had locked himself in the garage, completely neglecting himself. His father had been too wrapped up in his grief to look after the family, leaving Don to do it. Now because of Charlie, it was happening again.

"Please, Don. I'm worried about him."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Don stood outside the door to the garage and hesitated before entering. He could clearly hear the chalk scraping against the board as Charlie madly wrote out whatever equations were crawling around in his head. He knew what he'd find on the other side of the door, and wasn't sure he could handle it. Well, handle it, yes. In an appropriate way? Most likely not. His patience had been wearing very thin with his brother lately, and recent events were threatening to override his common sense.

Squaring his shoulders, he pushed the door open and stalked into the room. It was worse than he'd thought. Every chalkboard in the room was covered in various numbers and symbols he didn't recognize. Many of the equations were overlapped to the point nothing could be deciphered, and when Charlie had given up on that, he'd started writing on the floor. Chalk dust hung in the air, and was sprinkled over his brother's dark clothes and hair, making him look like he'd had a mishap with a bag of flour. Words and phrases that were meaningless to Don spewed forth from Charlie's mouth.

"Charlie," he started, aghast, as he stepped further into the room. No response. Raising his voice he tried again. "Charlie!"

"Go away," Charlie mumbled, not even glancing up from the floor. Don suspected Charlie didn't even know who was in the room with him.

Don walked the remaining few feet to where his brother was hunched over and again tried to get his attention. His calm exterior hid the anger he could feel deep inside. "Charlie, look at me." Again no response. "Charlie, I'm talking to you, damn it!" He emphasized this by reaching down and roughly grabbing Charlie's wrist, the one with the chalk, and hauling him upright. "What the hell's the matter with you?"

"This equation... not enough time, and, uh, this equation, is uh, what is this I'm forgetting..." Charlie's disjointed ramblings were accompanied by a total lack of interest in Don. His eyes wandered the room, as though looking for a convenient place to start writing again. Don's eyes widened when Charlie quickly passed the chalk from his restrained right hand to his left, and reached over to start writing on one of the pillars.

"Charlie, no!" He grabbed the front of his brother's shirt with both hands, roughly pulling him forward until they were almost nose to nose. He was used to Charlie losing himself in his math, it would happen from time to time. It just never happened to the total exclusion of the world around him.

Charlie's eyes were still wandering, so Don shook him. Hard. Charlie's eyes suddenly snapped into focus, staring directly into his older brother's. What Don saw chilled him, making him temporarily forget about his anger. These weren't his brother's eyes. Charlie's eyes were bright and clear, and overflowing with knowledge. The eyes he saw were empty, like a void where his brother should have been. Despite the brightness of the garage, his pupils were dilated, and it was then he noticed the slight tremors coursing through his brother's smaller frame. He'd been in law enforcement long enough to recognize the signs. Coupled with the not eating or sleeping, it all made sense.

"Charlie," he started, his voice dangerously low. "What did you take?"

His little brother's eyes widened in surprise at the accusation, and for a split second his thoughts cleared. "Don?'

"What are you on, Charlie? Some sort of amphetamine? Huh? Need something to help you work at these damn equations longer?" His anger was threatening to overcome him once again.

"What? Don... what's going on? I'd never..."

"Dad is lying in the house so sick he can barely function, and instead of worrying about himself, he's fretting about you! You don't care enough about your own father, who's spent his life giving everything to you, to help him out with the simplest tasks, and then above all else you start taking drugs!" Don knew he was jumping to conclusions, but didn't care.

This was inexcusable. "He calls me at work and gets my supervisor so worked up he calls me off the case I was working, thinking there was some sort of serious family emergency! The only serious family emergency that comes to mind is the fact I allowed you back into my life!"

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Charlie was aware of Don's presence, could sense his anger and see his disappointment. He could feel the pain as Don's hands tightly gripped his shirt, and wished more than anything he could respond. He willed his mouth to work, to simply form complete sentences so he could defend himself from the hurtful things Don was saying, but instead found himself drifting further away.

His vision clouded as his eyes lost their focus.

_Don!_

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Don saw and felt Charlie's collapse before his mind fully registered what was happening. For a split second, he'd seen a glimpse of the real Charlie in the dark orbs before they lost focus again. The force of his brother's collapsing weight coupled with his death grip on his shirt pulled him down to his knees, while at the same time he quickly put his right hand behind Charlie's head to stop it from impacting the concrete floor with too much force.

"Charlie!" he sharply called, trying to rouse his unconscious brother.

He put his fingers against the younger man's neck and sighed when he felt a strong pulse, but that relief was short lived when he realized just how fast that pulse was going. "What have you done, Charlie?"

He pulled out his cell and rattled off the required information for the 911 operator, his eyes never leaving his brother who had yet to move. With a jolt he realized his dad was still lying upstairs, oblivious to the drama unfolding in the garage. He was torn between staying with Charlie, or going to give his dad the heads up as in a matter of minutes an ambulance with sirens blaring was going to pull into the driveway. The decision was taken out of his hands when the ambulance arrived.

He ran to the door and ushered the medics in, sticking close.

"What happened?" the older paramedic of the two asked.

"I'm not exactly sure. He just collapsed, but before that there was definitely something wrong with him."

The other paramedic had attached a pulse-ox monitor to Charlie's index finger and was in the process of deflating a blood pressure cuff. "Pulse 172, blood pressure 165/110," he quietly told his partner, who upon hearing the vitals started demanding information from Don while he rapidly prepared to transport Charlie.

"Is he on any medications? Specifically heart medications?"

"Not that I know of." Charlie would have mentioned something like that, wouldn't he?

"Has he taken anything? Anything at all?" They already had Charlie on the backboard and were headed for the ambulance.

"I... I'm not sure." It hurt Don to say that. Under any other circumstance he would have been offended by a question like that, but given Charlie's earlier behaviour he couldn't rule it out. "He was confused and rambling right before he collapsed, and he hasn't been eating or sleeping. What's wrong with him?"

"We can't say for sure. His pulse and blood pressure are dangerously high and he needs to get to the hospital immediately. You can follow behind us if you want." With that, the ambulance doors were slammed and the ambulance screeched out of the driveway.

Don ran back into the house and bounded up the stairs, almost running into his father as he rounded the corner. "Dad!" he exclaimed, shocked.

"Don? What's going on? What happened to Charlie? I need to see him."

"Dad, no. He collapsed in the garage and is on his way to the hospital right now. I'm going to meet him there. Do me a favour and get back to bed and I'll call you as soon as I know anything." He reached to touch his father's shoulder and steer him back down the hall.

"Absolutely not! You expect me to lie here while my son is being rushed to the emergency room?" The adrenaline surge brought on by the shock of hearing the sirens had given him a small burst of strength. He moved to push past Don.

"Dad, listen to me. You will not do yourself or Charlie any good pushing yourself like this. You are very sick too. I suspect once the doctors get a whiff of you they'll either want to admit you or shoo you out so you don't make anyone else sick."

"Don -"

"Dad, trust me. The minute I know anything I will call you. I don't want to have to worry about you too, all right?"

"I'm going to hold you to that." Alan obviously wasn't happy about this.

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Please review. I'd love any constructive comments._


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you, thank you, thank you for the reviews! You guys are awesome.

Any medical mistakes in this chapter are mine, though I did do my research.

Big hugs to my beta **lostinwonderland1226**. Her help has been invaluable.

**Proving Ground**

**Part 3/6**

by Megan

_I have long since come to believe that people never mean half of what they say, and that it is best to disregard their talk and judge only their actions._

_-Dorothy Day (1897-1980)_

Don drove as quickly as he dared in midday traffic. It certainly wouldn't do Charlie any good if he wrapped his car around a telephone pole. The shrill ring of his cell phone grabbed his attention.

"Eppes," he barked into the phone.

With that one word, Terry immediately picked up on the stress in her partner's voice and her instincts went onto high alert. "Don? It's Terry. What's going on?"

"Charlie's on his way to the hospital. He collapsed."

"Oh my god, is he okay?"

"Well I wouldn't know that, would I?" he snapped, but immediately took it back. "Listen Terry, I'm sorry. This was a real shock. I'll call you once I know, all right?"

"Of course."

Once parked, he rushed through the Emergency Room entrance seeking anyone who could point him in the direction of his brother. Spotting an older lady in scrubs at a computer, he hurried over.

"I'm looking for my brother, Charles Eppes. He was just brought in," he stated, impatiently shifting from one foot to another.

"And you are?" She looked at him over the rim of her glasses.

"I'm his brother. Where is he?"

"He's still in the ER, room 1014. He's..."

Don was passed her before she could finish her sentence.

"Sir! You can't go back there!"

He flashed her his badge in response and kept going, frantically searching the doors for a 1014. The further down the hall he went, the busier things got. People moved purposefully from room to room; phones rang, babies cried, and raised voices could be heard filtering through from behind closed doors.

Finally coming across the room, he rushed in without giving much thought to what he might find on the other side.

What he did see took his breath away.

Charlie, his little brother, lay unnaturally still and pale on a sterile hospital bed. He had been stripped of all clothing, and covered with a flimsy sheet drawn up to this waist. There were electrodes stuck to his chest which connected to a heart monitor, an oxygen mask over his face, and various other tubes were sticking out of his body. It was then he noticed he wasn't alone in the room.

A nurse was on the other side of the bed injecting something into the IV. She hadn't been surprised at Don's abrupt entrance after having worked in the ER upwards of fifteen years. She said something about getting the doctor, but Don wasn't paying attention. He couldn't take his eyes off of Charlie.

"Hey, Buddy," he quietly said, moving closer to the bed.

The only noise in the room other than Charlie's breathing was the too rapid beeping of the heart monitor. He was no doctor, but he knew the beeps were coming way too fast.

"'I'm Dr. Harriman. Are you family?"

Don hadn't heard the man approach, which was unusual for him. His FBI training had taught him to be aware of his surroundings and the people in it.

"Yeah, I'm his brother. Don Eppes."

The short, stocky doctor huffed and picked up Charlie's chart. Flipping through it, he sighed before placing it back on the end of the bed.

"Your brother came in with a dangerously high blood pressure and pulse. While they are both still elevated, we're giving him medications to bring them down. Neurological exams are normal, and the ECG indicates the problem isn't cardiac related, which leads me to believe we're dealing with a drug. We're running tox screens and a urinalysis, and the results have yet to come back."

"So, he's going to be all right?"

"I'm not seeing any signs of permanent damage as far as his heart goes, but until I know the drug we're dealing with, it's too soon to say." At Don's less than thrilled expression, he elaborated. "Your brother is going to be unconscious for a while, and the test results will take some time. This normally isn't allowed, but if you'd like to sit with him you can. Just don't get in the way."

"Thank you, Doctor." As the older man turned to leave, Don called out to him, "Is there a phone around here I could use? I need to call my father."

"Try the Nurses' Station around the corner," the doctor said with a sigh before leaving.

Dialing the number automatically, Don called his father. He never imagined he'd have to call his father under these circumstances. By the fifth ring, his father still hadn't answered. Don gripped the phone tighter. What if something had happened? What if he had fainted on the stairs?

The stream of 'what ifs' quickly ended when his dad, managing to sound weary and anxious at the same time, picked up the phone. "Don? How's Charlie." Alan's voice was hoarse.

Don didn't know how much to reveal to his dad. Being sick, the last thing Alan needed was the extra stress of dealing with Charlie and possible drug use. _No. Not drug use. Charlie would never do that_, he mentally berated himself. "They're running tests right now. It's going to take some time before they know exactly what's wrong."

"But he's going to be okay." It was a statement more than a question.

"The doctor isn't committing to it-"

Alan cut him off. "They never do."

"Yeah, right. The doctor isn't committing to it, but it looks like Charlie will be fine."

Alan's relief was palpable. Even over the phone.

"Listen, Dad. The nurses need the phone. I'm going to sit with Charlie. I'll call when the results are back."

"Make sure you do."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Don sat beside Charlie's bed, watching the minutes tick by. Each torturous click of the second hand brought him seconds closer to finding out what had happened to Charlie. Did he want to know? What had his younger brother been up to these past few days? He couldn't accept that Charlie had been using drugs, despite the fact all the evidence currently indicated it.

Reaching out, Don took Charlie's hand in his. The skin was cool to the touch, his palms clammy. The constant beeping of the heart monitor had started to slow. Charlie's pulse was still too fast, but not dangerously so.

Taking a minute to really study his brother, Don couldn't believe how bad Charlie looked now that he wasn't covered in chalk dust. His dark hair was more unruly than usual, and accentuated the pale skin of his face. The dark smudges under his eyes gave them a sunken appearance, and an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose covered most of the stubble on his face.

Don's eyes traced down Charlie's chest, pausing on the electrodes that monitored his heart, and then continued down to his waist. Dad was right. Judging by the concave appearance of his brother's stomach, it was obvious he hadn't been eating. How could Charlie have deteriorated so fast? What the hell was happening?

A small groan caused Don to snap his eyes back up to Charlie's face.

"Charlie? Can you hear me, Buddy?" He gripped his brother's hand tighter as he spoke.

"Don?" The voice was barely audible due to the oxygen mask, but it was the best thing Don had ever heard. "..wt...happnd?"

"I was hoping you could tell me, Buddy. How are you feeling?"

Charlie's eyes slipped closed. "..m..tired."

"Ah, it's good to see you're awake," the doctor exclaimed louder than necessary as he swept into the room, papers in hand.

Eyes snapping open, Charlie glanced at the doctor.

"The results of the tox screen have come back positive for phenelzine, an antidepressant. The levels of the drug weren't high enough to be toxic, which is good because that might have killed you, but were still high enough to cause a severe adverse reaction. We've given you drugs to lower your heart rate, and fluids for an electrolyte imbalance. We're also going to be pushing fluids to try and flush the drug out of your system. Can you tell me why you took so much of the medication?" the doctor asked as he went to replace the oxygen mask with a nasal cannula.

Don quickly snapped his jaw closed, which had dropped open at the mention of 'antidepressant'. Sure, Charlie would go through bouts of depression, but Don had never thought it bad enough that he'd actually need medication. "Charlie, when did you start taking antidepressants?"

"I haven't," Charlie quietly answered, as confused as everyone else. "I'm not taking any prescribed medications."

"Well then how... are you sure about the test results, Doctor?" Don asked, mind kicking into gear. As an FBI agent, Don didn't like the scenarios that were popping unbidden into his mind.

"Of course."

"Tell me more about the drug."

"Well, phenelzine, commonly called Nardil, is prescribed for depression when other drugs have failed. Because of this drugs mode of action, each person is affected differently by it, and it can be unpredictable. Nardil works by increasing the amount of epinephrine, norepinephrine, serotonin and dopamine in the central nervous system. There is no shortage of side effects with this drug. The most common ones are dizziness, anorexia, insomnia, anemia, mania, hyper or hypotension, anxiety, tremors and dysrhythmias to name a few. In severe cases, someone might suffer from a hypertensive crisis, which if left untreated, is fatal."

"Sounds about right," Charlie mumbled.

"Hypertensive meaning..." Don prodded.

"High blood pressure. The drug also interacts negatively with a number of foods and other drugs. Now, since the levels in your blood weren't toxic, I'm going to keep you for a few more hours for observation, then you'll be free to go home as long as someone stays with you," the doctor addressed to Charlie.

"If the levels weren't toxic, why was he so sick?" Don asked, horrified at what this drug could have done to his little brother.

"Normally, when a patient is started on this drug, they start on a low dose. The dosage is then titrated, or gradually increased, up to a therapeutic level. It looks like your brother got a fairly high dose immediately. Because this drug has a cumulative effect, it would have taken a few days for him to get as sick as he was this afternoon."

"So, what. You're saying Charlie has ingested multiple doses of this drug?" Don asked, shocked.

"Most definitely. For someone being treated with this drug, therapeutic effects aren't noticeable until one to four weeks after commencing treatment. Therefore, for your brother to have this type of reaction, he'd need more than one dose."

"How is phenelzine normally taken?" asked Don.

"By mouth. Always," the doctor responded.

"Doctor, I'm going to need copies of the lab results and Charlie's chart before he's released."

After the doctor left, Don turned back to his brother who was struggling to keep his eyes open. He clasped his hand again to get his attention. Despite the disturbing news, Charlie didn't look as shook up as Don expected him to.

"Charlie? Tell me what's going on. Do you know who might have done this?"

"Don. I'm not sure, but it might have been one of my students. You have to promise not to get him into too much trouble. He's got a bad..."

Don couldn't believe what he was hearing. A student might have tried to kill Charlie and all Charlie is concerned about is whether or not the student will get into serious trouble?

"Charlie! Tell me what's going on."

"His name's Tony Rossey. I had an argument with him last Friday about a mark I gave him on an assignment. He was quite... forceful about it." Charlie proceeded to tell Don the whole story.

"Tony Rossey," Don mumbled as he wrote down the name. "This drug has to be taken orally. Has someone given you any food? Did you consume anything that wasn't in your sight at all times?"

Charlie thought about it for a minute. "I don't know. I haven't really eaten much and I don't remember much of the past few days."

"Think, Charlie. This would have to be a food item Tony could access easily. Something he knew you'd consume."

Suddenly, Charlie remembered something. "Tea. I drink tea everyday. One during morning class, and another after lunch. I don't usually keep the tea with me all the time. I'm usually running back and forth between the classroom and my office before class starts, so I leave it sitting on my desk. My god, Don. You don't really think he..."

"I don't know, Charlie, but I am going to find out. Was Tony in class each day this week?"

"I don't teach Tony's class everyday. Just Mondays and Fridays."

Don frowned. "Could Tony still have had access to your classroom or office?"

"Yeah. I don't lock the classroom or office if I'm just running to grab something and don't expect to be gone long. What are you going to do?"

"First, I have to call Dad and give him an update, and then I'm going to go to the office to run Tony's name and see what pops up."

"Oh no, Dad!" Charlie exclaimed, trying to sit up. "He was sick and I left him alone! I don't remember speaking to him in days! I have to see if he's all right."

Don immediately grabbed Charlie's shoulders and pushed him back down. "Dad's fine, Charlie. He's got the flu or something and is home resting. He's the one that called me about you. Now stay here and I'll be back, okay?"

"Tell Dad I'm sorry."

Don nodded. "I will."

After Don left, Charlie slumped against the mattress and tightly closed his eyes as memories from the past week pushed themselves to the surface as his mind cleared. In his mind's eye, he could clearly see his dad as he told him he was sick last weekend, and asking him if he was okay at the start of the week. Then there was nothing. It was like he had forgotten his father was in the house.

Another memory, one he could have lived without, also came up. He could see Don's angry face as though he were actually right in front of him, and hear his angry voice. _The only serious family emergency that comes to mind is the fact I allowed you back into my life!_

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Hey, Don!" David's excited voice called as he trotted over to Don's desk. "I got something on Tony Rossey. You're never going to believe this."

David watched as Don's eyes scanned the paper, widening towards the end. "Alphonse Rossey! Tony is Alphonse Rossey's son?"

"Who?" Terry piped up.

"Alphonse Rossey has been linked with the Italian mafia. Don investigated him last year for extortion, but couldn't get a conviction due to a lack of evidence."

"And this SOB's son is one of Charlie's students. Wow. That would explain Tony's aggressive nature, having grown up in a family like that. Do you think Charlie had any idea?" Terry asked.

"I doubt it. Terry, I want you to see if you can track down Tony. I'm going to see if Charlie is ready to come home."

Don's gut tightened as he left the office. All his instincts were screaming at him that this would get worse before it got better.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Stealth Dragon: No worries, this story is complete. I agree that too many stories are left unfinished, and it bugs me too._

_Patty: That would make for an interesting plot bunny!_

_Mary: I love your enthusiasm. I can tell you without spoiling anything that Charlie will not be a drug addict._

_Thanks again everyone. I'm glad I've made Tony such a despicable character, and your reviews help me revise future chapters so they'll be better._


	4. Chapter 4

Big hugs to everyone for the reviews! I cherish every one.

Many thanks to my beta, **lostinwonderland1226**, who takes time out of her busy schedule to make this story better.

**Proving Ground**

**Part 4/6**

by Megan

_Victory attained by violence is tantamount to a defeat, for it is momentary._

_-Mahatma Gandhi (1869-1948)_

**Friday**

**11:12 pm**

Charlie stared out the window of Don's SUV and watched the scenery go by. The street lights cast a hypnotic glow as they went zipping past, lulling Charlie to sleep. He'd never been this exhausted. It felt like he was living one of those dreams where all you wanted to do was lie down and sleep, regardless of what was going on around you, and without feeling embarrassment. This was only one of his problems.

_The only serious family emergency that comes to mind is the fact I allowed you back into my life!_

He closed his eyes and tried to will the image of Don's angry face from his memory. Don had never said anything that hurtful to him before. Ever. Even as children, whenever Don said something mean, he always apologized or made it up to him. This time, Don had done nothing of the sort. That meant one thing to Charlie. Don didn't care enough about him anymore to bother apologizing. Somehow, he had managed to screw up his relationship with his older brother so badly, Don just didn't care about him anymore.

_Charlie, what did you take? What are you on, Charlie? Some sort of amphetamine? Need something to help you work at these damn equations longer?_

How could Don think he'd actually do drugs? That accusation alone was enough to prove to him his brother didn't think very highly of him.

The conversation at the hospital hadn't helped either.

_"So this kid threatened you, and you didn't tell security?" Don exclaimed._

_"He didn't actually threaten me, and I did report the incident. Just not to security," Charlie mumbled, eyes downcast. Once again he had managed to piss Don off._

_"You're splitting hairs, Charlie. A big guy by the name of Rossey makes a veiled threat, and you don't think you might have had a problem with this student?"_

_"Geez, Don. Are you saying because his name is Rossey I'm supposed to automatically assume he's involved with the Italian Mafia?" He could feel his own anger and frustration at the situation rising._

_Don looked down and sighed. "Sorry, Charlie. It's just that with my job, I'm expected to see the worst in people. It's as natural as breathing to me now. Sometimes I forget other people don't think the same way." He paused. "And I'm glad you don't think that way."_

_"Even if it almost gets me killed," Charlie said so quietly Don didn't hear._

After that, the doctor had come and discharged him with strict instructions to go home and rest, and a prescription for a sedative. He was also to come back the minute he started feeling sick again, no matter how minor the symptom.

The harsh ring of Don's phone shattered his thoughts. Charlie only half listened to the one-sided conversation. He knew if there was something important happening, Don would tell him.

"That was Terry on the phone, Charlie. She spoke with Tony's father. Apparently, Tony never came home from school this afternoon, and no one has heard from him since. Terry is putting an APB out on Tony's car, and I've sent David to watch his house in case he comes home."

"What makes you so certain Tony did this?"

"Can you think of anyone else that had the opportunity and a motive?" At Charlie's silence, he continued. "Tony's father says his behaviour has been erratic this week. I think this is our guy."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Charlie!" Alan exclaimed as he slowly got off the couch to greet his sons. "Are you all right? I was so worried about you!"

"Charlie's fine, Dad. He had a bad reaction to a drug."

"Drug? What kind of drug? An allergic reaction?"

Alan's eyes anxiously flipped back and forth between Don and Charlie. While Don appeared worn out, Charlie looked on the verge of collapse. This was the first good look he'd had at Charlie in days, and he didn't like what he was seeing. Still, he'd spent the whole day imagining all the terrible things that could have happened to his son. He'd been so anxious, that after Charlie had left in the ambulance, going back to bed was out of the picture. The adrenaline surge had caused his cold symptoms to abate somewhat, leaving him restless.

"Not quite, Dad. Charlie, you look like you're about to fall down, Buddy. Why don't you go up to bed and I'll fill Dad in, all right?"

"Sure," Charlie replied in a subdued voice, and left to go upstairs.

"Dad, let's go into the living room and sit down."

"No, Donny. I want to know what's going on, and I want to know now," Alan demanded in his best 'I am your father and you will do as I say' tone. "I'm getting the feeling you've been hiding something from me, and I don't appreciate it."

Don knew his father was right. Maybe it had been wrong to not keep him fully informed, but he was just trying to look out for his father's best interests. "Dad, Charlie was drugged. Most likely by one of his students."

"Oh... oh my god. Drugged? With what? Why?"

"It was an antidepressant. I have people looking into it, but we don't have much to go on at the moment."

"But, Charlie's weird behaviour started days ago. Are you saying..." Alan let the thought trail off, too horrified to verbalize it. "I ignored him. He was sick, and I..."

"Don't think like that, Dad. You sound like Charlie. You were very sick too. You couldn't even get out of bed, remember? Charlie is going to be fine, and he doesn't blame you. He thinks he's the one that let you down."

"Really?" Alan mulled this over for a moment. "Well, it sounds like Charlie and I should have a talk in the morning."

"Why don't you go up to bed, and I'll be up in a minute? It's getting late."

"You're sure everything's all right, Donny?"

"Yeah, Dad. Fine."

Once Alan had gone upstairs, Don walked around the house and doubled-checked that all the windows and doors were locked. He didn't like the fact Tony had gone missing, but there was only so much he could do. There hadn't been a verbal or written threat made against Charlie's life, and there was no evidence at all linking Tony to the Nardil in Charlie's tea. He couldn't even prove the Nardil had been put in the tea intentionally. Even though the odds were astronomical, there was always the chance the Nardil had been added during the tea's production. All it takes is one disturbed person.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**Saturday**

**12:35 pm**

Don quietly entered his brother's darkened room, a mug of steaming tomato soup in hand. Much to his surprise, Charlie had actually gone to bed when told last night, and had slept soundly the entire night. Don hated to wake him, but the fact was, the doctor had asked Don to make sure Charlie ate regularly and drank plenty of fluids.

The sound of Charlie's even and soft breathing filled the room. As Don approached the bed, he could see Charlie's curly hair framing his face. The rest of him was buried under a mountain of blankets.

"Hey, Buddy," Don softly stated, trying not to startle his brother. "Charlie? I need you to wake up." He reached out and gently shook Charlie's shoulder.

Eyes slowly opening, Charlie rolled onto his back and looked at Don, then the mug in his hands. "You didn't have to, Don."

"Of course I did, Buddy. Who else will bully you into taking time to eat?" Don smiled as he remembered literally bullying his younger brother into a meal when he got too wrapped up in his numbers.

"Is there something else you wanted?" Charlie asked after taking the soup and noticing Don was making no move to leave.

"No, not really. I just wanted to see how you were doing." Don hid his shocked expression at Charlie's abrupt tone behind a forced smile and shrugged.

"Fine. Just tired. Thanks for the soup." Charlie placed the empty mug on the bedside table, and settled back under the covers.

Don wasn't going to let Charlie off that easily. It was glaringly obvious Charlie needed to talk. "Look, Charlie. I know this is rough. If you want to talk about what's happened..."

"It's okay, Don. It's not that." Charlie rolled over, his back to Don.

Don looked at his brother for another minute before turning and quietly leaving. Charlie would talk when he was ready. Pushing him now would only anger him and push him away.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**Saturday**

**9:17 pm**

The silence of the living room was broken only by the crackling of paper as Charlie occasionally flipped a page in the book he was reading. Alan had gone to bed earlier, claiming all he needed was one more good night's sleep and he would have the cold beat. Charlie still wasn't talking to him, so Don decided it was time do something more productive.

"I'm headin' up for a shower. Is there anything you need, Buddy?" Don asked as he stood up from the couch and started loosening his tie.

"I'm fine, Don," Charlie replied, subdued.

"Remember what I told you earlier?"

"Don't answer the door. I know, Don. I'm not helpless." The last part was muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Don looked hard at him.

"Nothing." Charlie put on a false smile.

Don's eyes lingered on his brother for a few minutes as he mulled over Charlie's uncharacteristic behaviour. _Who wouldn't be a little of kilter after going through what Charlie went through?_

Charlie sat on the couch and listened to Don trudging up the stairs, followed by the sound of the shower being turned on. _How could Don be so oblivious?_ he thought to himself.

_The only serious family emergency that comes to mind is the fact I allowed you back into my life!_

Charlie felt his stomach harden and his throat close up again. Blinking rapidly, he tried to to force back the hot tears he could feel forming. Don really seemed to have forgotten what he had said. Charlie had looked up to Don all his life, and this is how it turns out.

_Thud._

Charlie tensed. Sitting up, he strained his ears to see if he could catch the strange noise again. He'd lived in this house all his life and knew every sound it made. That was not one of them. He knew his dad couldn't have heard it, due to the loud humidifier currently running in his room.

Holding his breath, Charlie closed his eyes and focused on picking up any noise other than Don's shower. Feeling his lungs starting to burn and hearing nothing more than running water and his rapid heartbeat, Charlie let out the breath he had been holding.

Slumping back against the couch, it was the deafening sound of shattering glass breaking the silence that rocketed him to his feet. Not bothering to look for the source of the sound, he forced his tired body to its limits and dashed for the stairs. He managed to make it up three steps before an iron-grip clamped onto his ankle and jerked backwards.

"Don!" he yelled as he lost his balance and crashed face-first against the stairs.

A white hot pain seared his mouth as his teeth dug into his tongue, and a bitter taste filled his mouth.

Before he could yell for his brother again, he felt his shoulders roughly grabbed. With surprising force, he was flipped onto his back and came face-to-face with his attacker. His eyes widened as he found himself looking into the cold, angry eyes of Tony Rossey.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Sorry for the cliffhanger, it was the best place to end it._

_Please review._


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks again for all the wonderful feedback (and not lynching me for that cliff hanger).

Warning: this part contains minor violence and Charlie h/c. Don't read if you don't like that kind of thing.

Many thanks to my beta **lostinwonderland1226**.

**Proving Ground**

**Part 5/6**

by Megan

_When dealing with people, let us remember we are not dealing with creatures of logic. We are dealing with creatures of emotion, creatures bustling with prejudices and motivated by pride and vanity._

_-Dale Carnegie_

"Good evening, Professor. Having a rough night, are we?" Tony taunted as he moved his hands to Charlie's throat.

Unable to respond, much less breathe, Charlie closed his eyes and focused on forcing air past the crushing pressure on his throat, and blood pooling in his mouth.

With a grunt, Tony used his bulk, and the fact Charlie was still exhausted, to easily haul him up and away from the stairs, and push his back against the unforgiving wood of a bookshelf.

Charlie's vision blackened around the edges, and he was sure his neck was going to snap due to the tremendous pressure being exerted on it. The moment his back pressed against the shelf, he felt the grasp around his throat loosen enough for him to take a gasping breath. Spitting out blood at the same time, he was slightly satisfied to see it had landed on Tony's arms. Tony didn't flinch.

"Why?" Charlie managed to croak out.

"Do you know what it's like always having to prove yourself to someone? I couldn't prove myself to Dad with brains, so now I'm going to do it with brawn. You had your chance, professor."

"You're not going to get away with this, Tony." Charlie closed his eyes and tried to quell the terror that was rising in his gut. His limbs went cold with the realization that he was going to die unless he did something quick. "My -"

"I don't care! As long as I have my father's approval, I don't care what happens to me!"

Charlie felt one of Tony's hands leave his throat and dig into the front of his shirt with bruising force. As Tony's anger spiked, Charlie felt himself pulled forward, and then slammed back against the shelf once, twice, three times. His muscles screamed in agony with each impact, and he was certain he was going to break in two. A groan escaped his throat.

As Tony's fit passed, Charlie felt his attacker's muscles relax slightly and realized this might be his only chance. With all the strength he could draw from his burning muscles, he brought his knee up and felt it solidly connect with Tony's groin. The reaction was instantaneous.

Tony shrieked in equal parts agony and surprise, and completely released Charlie at the same time.

With his mobility greatly reduced, Charlie turned for the stairs and called for his brother at the same time.

"Don! I need -" his speech cut out and he saw stars as something hard connected solidly with the back of his head, driving him to his knees. He was forced the rest of the way to his stomach as a boot pressed painfully into his lower back and started crushing him.

"That was very stupid, professor!"

"As are you. Step away from him and get on the ground," Don's dangerously low voice commanded.

Charlie turned his head and saw his brother, water still dripping from his hair and a gun in his hand as he slowly descended the stairs. The pressure on his back increased as Tony thought through his options.

"I said step away!" Don yelled.

He'd just shut off the water when his brother's terrified voice had permeated his recently relaxed mind. Throwing on a pair of pants, he'd grabbed his gun and run full speed to the stairs. The sight of Charlie, lying helpless on the ground with blood all over his face, had almost stopped his heart.

"Don't do it, Tony," he growled when he saw Charlie's eyes squeeze shut in pain and heard a moan escape his throat.

"I could kill him right now. Squeeze the life right out of him."

"Do it and I'll put a bullet in you. Get away from him!"

"You're bluffing," Tony sneered.

"He'll do it," Charlie's quiet voice responded. "He's very protective of... younger brother."

Inside, Don was cheering: _way to go, Charlie._

Realizing he was in a no-win situation, Tony slowly stepped off of Charlie and moved backwards until Don ordered him onto the floor. The sneer never left his face.

Even though it hurt, Don stepped over Charlie in order to get to Tony. He quickly patted him down and drew his cuffs from the pocket of his pants, being as rough as possible as he yanked Tony's hands behind his back.

"Don't. Move," he ordered.

Rushing to the coffee table, he grabbed the phone and quickly called Terry, who promised to call David and get to the house as soon as possible.

Keeping one eye on Tony, Don rushed to Charlie's side. His younger brother was struggling to sit up, his harsh breathing filling the room. Crimson blood stained his chin and was starting to soak into his t-shirt. The metallic smell assaulted Don's nose as he knelt down.

"Here, Buddy. Let me give you a hand."

Gently placing his hands under Charlie's arms, he maneuvered his brother so his back was against the wall. His first aid training told him Charlie would be able to breathe easier sitting up. What he wasn't prepared for was the yelp of pain, and the way his brother's face contorted with agony when his back touched the wall.

"Charlie? Charlie, what's wrong?" he demanded, fearing his brother was seriously hurt. _I just had to take that shower and leave him alone! _Don chastised himself.

"My... back," Charlie ground out.

Don watched as Charlie twisted around so his left shoulder was pressed against the wall, his back to Don. The sound of Charlie's harsh breathing abated somewhat as he found himself a comfortable position.

Curious, and scared at the same time, Don left his right hand on Charlie's shoulder for support, and used his left to gently raise the back of his brother's t-shirt. His breath caught in his throat.

Only inches above the waist of Charlie's jeans, Don could see a blue discolouration in the shape of a boot starting to form on the pale skin. Raising the shirt further, he could see another bruise starting to form right below his shoulder blades. The skin was red, and the tissues were starting to swell. His anger at what Tony did to Charlie grew even more.

"Charlie, how did this happen?" he asked, his voice almost breaking with the effort it took to not march over to Tony and kick his face in.

"Oh my god!" Alan exclaimed, shocked. "What happened? Are you two all right? And why is there a strange man handcuffed on my living room floor?"

Despite feeling groggy from the cold medicine, Alan's sharp eyes took everything in. What stood out was how unresponsive Charlie was being to Don's ministrations. It was then he saw the blood staining Charlie's clothes and face.

"I'm calling an ambulance," he declared.

"No!" Charlie had managed to calm himself down enough to make his voice sound stronger and more stable than how he was feeling. "No ambulance... just cuts and bruises."

"Charlie, look at yourself!"

"It's all right, Dad. Please, I just need a minute." Charlie closed his eyes.

A loud knocking on the door caught everyone's attention.

"Don? Don, it's Terry," a voice called through the door.

"Terry?" Alan asked. "Donny, what the heck is going on?"

"Dad, just go let Terry in, okay? I'll explain later."

Once he showed Terry and David to the living room, Alan rushed over to his two sons. He could vaguely hear David reading the strange man on the floor his rights, but it was Charlie that was holding his attention.

His youngest son was pale, and breathing harder than he should be. Don's hand hovered above Charlie's lower back without touching it. Almost like he was protecting it.

"Charlie, I want you to let me call you an ambulance. Or at least take you to see a doctor," he said, leaning down to Charlie's level.

"I'm fine, Dad. Really." Charlie turned his head just enough that Alan could see his eyes were open. "Could someone give me a hand up?"

Immediately, Don and Alan responded, each grabbing him under the arms and lifting him to his feet. Only a small groan escaped, but other than that and the blood, Charlie really did seem fine.

"Dad, why don't you take Charlie upstairs and get him cleaned up? I'm going to have to go to the office to finish up with this first," Don ordered.

Alan helped Charlie up the stairs, supporting him occasionally as his balance was slightly off. Charlie seemed content not to talk. Alan had decided that if Charlie was hurt more seriously than he was letting on, he would be taken to the hospital kicking and screaming if need be.

Arriving at the bathroom, Alan gently pushed his son down onto the edge of the tub and got his first look at Charlie's throat.

"Charlie! What did he do to you?" Alan exclaimed as he gently took Charlie's chin in his hand and lifted to get a better look at his throat.

"It's not as bad at it looks," Charlie croaked out, his voice hoarse. "Could we talk... later?"

The purple bruising around his youngest son's throat formed the shape of two hands, causing Alan's anger to flare. Not only anger at the man that had done this, but at himself. _If I hadn't had that stupid humidifier on, I might have heard sooner._ He had been in bed resting peacefully while his son was being beaten in his own living room.

"Open up, Charlie. I want to see where this blood is coming from."

"I bit my tongue," Charlie replied as he obediently opened his mouth and allowed his father to turn his head side to side as he examined him.

"It looks like you bit the inside of your cheek as well."

Going over to the sink, Alan soaked a face cloth with warm water and passed it to Charlie with instructions to clean up his face. While Charlie was doing that, Alan went back to the kitchen and returned a few moments later with what looked like a glass of water.

"I want you to gargle with this, but don't swallow it." At Charlie's questioning look, he elaborated. "Warm salt water. It will clean those cuts in your mouth."

Nodding, Charlie stiffly got to his feet and stood in front of the sink. The warm water felt heavenly on his burning tongue, and within moments the metallic taste was out of his mouth. Feeling his adrenaline surge starting to fade, all Charlie wanted to do was go to bed and forget what had happened.

"Is there anything else I need to know about, Charlie? Did he hurt you anywhere else?" Alan raked his eyes over the rest of his son's body, looking for anything out the ordinary.

Charlie's fingers automatically went to the back of his head. He had completely forgotten about getting hit there with all his other injuries warring for his attention. There was a good sized knot back there, but no blood that he could feel.

This movement was not lost on Alan, who placed his hand on top of Charlie's, and gently touched the bump at the base of his skull.

"Go lie down, Charlie, and I'll get you an ice pack."

Alan tried to calm his racing heart as he put Charlie's ice pack together. His anger and curiosity over not knowing what had gone on was starting to get to him. Don's explanation for Charlie's hospitalization had been vague, but feeling feverish at the time, he hadn't pushed Don for all the information. His son was okay, and after coming home later in the night from the hospital, he hadn't been as bad off as Alan had been expecting. His groggy mind had imagined all the worst case scenario's. With his impatience growing, he didn't think he could wait for Don to return for an explanation.

Upon arrival at Charlie's room, Alan found him stretched out on his stomach on the bed. The blood stained shirt was on the floor by the garbage pail, and Charlie had not bothered to put a clean one on. Instead, he'd opted for pulling the covers up to his shoulders.

Quietly, so as not to disturb him, Alan placed the ice pack on the back of Charlie's head, and also set down a container of ibuprofen and glass of water on the bedside table. Waking up Charlie to give him pain killers when he was so soundly asleep wouldn't do him any good.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Please review_


	6. Epilogue

Warnings: You might need a tissue for this part. I know I needed one writing it.

Thank you to my beta **lostinwonderland1226**.

Patty: No worries, Charlie is not concussed. It was simply a knock to the head that, in his weakened condition, pushed him to the ground.

**Proving Ground**

**Part 6/6**

by Megan

_The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed._

_-Carl Jung (1875-1961)_

**Sunday**

**4:13 am**

Don pulled up in front of his brother's house and shut off the engine of the SUV. Opening the door, the cool night air hit him in a rush, instantly cooling off his overheated skin. It felt like he had been awake for weeks. Drinking cup after cup of hot coffee had helped, but also made him feel like he was going to spontaneously combust. He knew the heat he felt radiating from his skin was coming from another source. Anger.

He was angry at Tony for what he had done to Charlie. He was angry at himself for getting so wrapped up in his work that he had neglected Charlie and his father when they both needed him. He was angry at Charlie for being so blind when it comes to human emotions.

Don knew it wasn't fair the think that way about Charlie. What had happened was an anomaly, as Charlie would put it, and could have happened to anyone. True, he was ignorant of the human condition, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. With all the bad in the world, he often wished he was as oblivious as Charlie, and envied his brother that innocence. Then something like this had to happen that would slowly dissolve the bubble Charlie seemed to live in. He could only pray Charlie would never wind up as cynical as he himself was becoming.

Don allowed his lips to curl into a small smile as he remembered Terry's acerbic 'give Tony a copy of The Godfather and send him packing' comment. Everyone had been angry about what had happened to Charlie, and that comment had lightened the mood a little.

The crunching of glass under his feet as he approached the front door alerted him to the fact Tony had indeed broken a window to gain entry. Before going to bed, he was definitely going to have to do something that.

His efforts to close the front door quietly so as not to disturb his family had been pointless, as Alan was standing at he top of the stairs looking expectantly at him.

"You don't have to keep quiet, Don. There's no way I'm sleeping tonight, and I heard your brother fussing in the kitchen a few minutes ago. Would you care to explain to me what happened tonight?"

Don climbed the stairs before speaking, so he could answer his father eye-to-eye.

"Remember I told you Charlie might have been drugged by one of his students?'

Alan nodded.

"Well, the man that broke in and attacked Charlie is that same student. We're charging him with two counts of attempted murder. With the amount of evidence against him, there's no way he can hurt Charlie again."

"But why would he do that, Donny? Charlie is a math teacher. Why did he want to hurt my son?"

"Well, he had a bad family situation. He had a disagreement with Charlie over a mark he received and took matters into his own hands. I can't give you all the details, just that there was a set of circumstances that no one could have foreseen, or changed, except the student. And he refused help." He watched his father's face as he digested the information. "Hey, how are you doing by the way, Dad? You really should be resting."

"I'm fine, Donny. Better now that I know everything is going to be all right."

Don watched his father's shoulders slump as the tension left his body, and his attempts to hold back a yawn.

"I always thought something like this would happen to you because of your job, not Charlie because of his." Alan looked straight into his older son's eyes. "Thank you, Donny. If you hadn't been here, I know for a fact Charlie wouldn't be here now."

Don let himself be pulled into an embrace. Even as an adult, his father's touch could slow his rapid heartbeat, and his words could heal all wounds.

"I'm going to go speak with Charlie. Get some rest, Dad," Don said as he pulled back from the embrace.

He watched his father walk down the hall, and headed to Charlie's room. The door was closed, but he could see light spilling from underneath, and hear muffled noises.

"Charlie?" he called and gently knocked on the door. "I'm coming in, Buddy."

Don couldn't make out Charlie's muffled response, but judging by the tone of his voice, didn't think Charlie would have a problem with his entering.

The door squeaked as it was opened, to reveal his brother lying on is stomach, struggling to position what Don assumed was an ice pack. His brother only wore a pair of cotton pajama bottoms, the bruises on his back more defined than before. A boot print was now clearly visible, and above that, there was a purple bruise that formed a perfectly straight line. It looked as though Charlie was trying to position the ice pack over his middle back.

"Let me give you a hand with that, Buddy," Don offered as he moved towards his brother.

"I'm fine, Don. I don't need your help," Charlie snapped.

Don, taken aback by Charlie's harsh tone, walked over to his brother. This was the first good look he'd gotten of Charlie's throat, and since he had seen him last, his lower lip had started to swell as well, making him speak with a slight lisp. He hated seeing Charlie hurt like this. The only consolation was the fact the man that had done this was already in custody.

Don grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and placed it beside Charlie's bed, taking a seat.

"I thought you'd like to know Tony is going to prison on two counts of attempted murder. It's over, Charlie."

"Two?" Charlie asked, slightly confused. "I thought you said you couldn't link him to the Nardil." Despite being groggy, there was nothing wrong with Charlie's mind.

"Well, for as bright as Tony was academically, it turns out he's seriously lacking in the street smarts department. He had a prescription for Nardil. His erratic behaviour his father mentioned last week? It was caused by him taking less of the medication so he'd have enough to poison you."

Charlie was silent, his face drawn into a frown.

"What is it, Charlie? You've been unusually quiet these past few days." Truth was, it was starting to unnerve him.

"It's nothing, Don. I just have some things to work out. I'm tired. I'll see you in the morning."

There it was again, Charlie pushing him away.

"Have I done something to anger you, Charlie? It seems you have more of a problem with me than Tony."

Charlie's eyes widened, and a hurt look passed over his face, before the carefully composed mask was back in place. "Goodnight, Don."

"Damn it, Charlie!" Don exclaimed, his frustration mounting. "You can't hold me responsible for something without at least telling me what it is!"

There it was. Charlie had the proof he needed. Don really didn't remember the hurtful words he'd said with such conviction only two days ago. He didn't know whether to throw the words back in Don's face, or make him worry about it longer.

After a few minutes, it was obvious Don wasn't going to leave without an answer.

"You accused me of using drugs," he quietly stated. "Before telling me what a horrible mistake you had made by... letting me back into your life."

The fight instantly left Don, and concern filled his face as he took in what Charlie had just told him.

"I guess I'm not that important after all, or you wouldn't have forgotten so quickly. Tony was going to throw away his whole life to gain has father's acceptance. Sometimes I wonder what I have to do to gain yours." Charlie's voice was starting to break.

Feeling his eyes start to burn at his brother's emotional distress, Don leaned forward in his chair so he was inches from Charlie's face. He didn't know where to start.

"Charlie, you have my acceptance. You've had it all your life, you just don't realize it. I love you, Charlie. The reason I don't remember saying those things is because they weren't important. I was angry for a lot of reasons and took it out on you. Charlie, I didn't mean any of it."

"You wouldn't have said it if it wasn't on your mind."

"Remember what I told you earlier? About my job making me see the worst in people? I looked at you, took in all the signs, and made a bad conclusion. A very wrong conclusion. I wish I didn't think this way, Charlie, but I do. I can't imagine my life without you. I love you."

"Of course you do. You're my brother. But do you like me? As a person, not as your brother."

"Oh Charlie, do you really have to ask that?" At that moment, Don would have given anything to be able to draw Charlie into a bone crushing hug, but knew with Charlie's injuries he'd only succeed in hurting him. Instead, he settled for placing his left arm over his brother's bare shoulders and giving him a gentle squeeze.

Feeling a yawn coming on, Don looked at his brother's face and saw his eyes had closed. While Charlie's expression wasn't serene, he didn't appear as upset as he had been only moments earlier.

"I think it's time I hit the sack. I'll see you in the morning, Charlie." Don stood and headed for the door.

"Technically, it is morning, Don. Oh, and Don?"

"Yeah, Buddy?"

"Would you mind pulling the blankets up? I don't think I can do it without knocking this ice pack off."

Don smiled. "Sure, buddy."

Charlie smiled as he felt the familiar weight of the blankets settle across his shoulders, and thanked his brother as he left. Something good had arisen from this whole mess after all.

_The End._

_Megan - October 2005_

_o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o_

_Credit for The Godfather line goes to my beta **l**ostinwonderland1226 during one of her critiques._

_I'd like to give a heartfelt thank you to everyone that commented on the story. Your comments help me improve my writing. There are so many of you I don't have the time to reply personally. For those that read without commenting, I hope you enjoyed it!_


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